


The Story Of The Young Girl And The Shinigami Who Saved Her

by afteriwake



Series: Bedtime Stories [4]
Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 10:26:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things were going to be different after tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story Of The Young Girl And The Shinigami Who Saved Her

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a little sadder, and the story isn’t really a fairy tale (it’s my take on how Isshin and Masaki met). But…I’ve wanted to write something like this for a while, and this seemed the best place to do it.

The group date had been a disaster. She had tried so hard to get everyone to get along, but it was just too soon. Riruka was kind of aloof, even though she _did_ start to enjoy herself towards the end, and Ishida pulled him aside and let him know he was only there because Orihime asked, but he’d have preferred to spend more time alone with Tatsuki, getting to know her better in a “we are maybe more than just friends” sense. As the evening wore on, even Orihime’s boundless energy started to dim.

To make it worse, she had spent most of the night before cramming for an exam, despite him telling her to get some sleep, and the stress had brought on a nightmare. The fact that she had _had_ energy for the evening’s activities had surprised him, but he could see as they walked in the door that she was not doing that well. She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek when they got in, bid him good-night, and dejectedly walked to her room.

He made up his bed, but something nagged at him. A half hour after she went to her room he went to her door. And then he could hear it: she was crying. She was trying to do it softly, but one thing that all his training had done was improve his senses, including his sense of hearing. He knocked and he heard her knock something off her dresser. “Yes?” she called out.

“Do you want me to come in?” he asked, his hand above the knob.

There was a long pause, and then he heard her walk to the door. When she opened it he could still see tear tracks on her face, even though she’d tried to wipe them away. Her eyes were slightly puffy, leading him to believe she’d been crying the entire time she’d been in her room. She didn’t say anything, just nodded and went back to her bed, sitting down and pulling her knees up to her chest.

He knew, from listening to Tatsuki, that she used to sleep on a mat on the floor, but once the ordeal in Hueco Mundo was over she’d decided she wanted a major change, so she talked her distant aunt into buying her a bed. Tatsuki said she’d had to agree to pay her back for it, and she had, but she had gotten a larger bed than needed. They both could fit on it and sleep comfortably. And he knew if he did that things might change between them, but she looked absolutely heartbroken. “Do you want me to sleep next to you tonight?” he asked quietly, going over to sit next to her.

She looked up, surprised, then nodded. “Hai,” she said quietly.

He went over to the other side of the bed, pulled back the blankets and sheets, and slipped in. She got under the covers, then curled up, facing him. He put a hand on her waist and rubbed her side. “Do you want a story tonight?”

“Is it childish?” she asked quietly. 

“Maybe,” he said. “But there’s something really comforting in having someone tell you a story when you need to sleep.”

“Did your mom ever tell you stories?” she asked.

He nodded slowly. “She did. I don’t remember all of them really well, though.”

“Sora-kun used to tell me stories. They had princesses and knights and trolls and all sorts of stuff. Your stories are a lot like his.” She paused. “I miss him sometimes. I used to think about him a lot. I don’t so much anymore, but when I do it hurts.” She sighed. “He would have known just what to do when I got home tonight. Just the right thing to say.”

He felt his feelings get hurt by that statement, but he kept it under wraps. He wasn’t her brother, but he cared for her. Maybe even loved her. After all, he’d moved into her home to make her happy. He hadn’t worked on getting his powers back because then she couldn’t be used as bait to draw him out ever again. He had done so much for her, and…it didn’t seem to matter. But he continued to stroke her side, and he felt her relax.

“You know what to do, too,” she said softly, and he stopped. “I mean, you moved in here. You got rid of your whole life to take care of me. And I don’t even deserve it.” He could see her cry again, and this time he reached up and wiped the tear away. “Why do you stay? No one wanted to be there tonight except you. And they’re my friends.” The tears slipped down more, and he ended up moving closer to her and wrapped her in his arms as she cried.

“It’s because I care about you,” he said quietly. “I’d do anything for you, Inoue.”

“Call me Orihime,” she said, her voice muffled because her head was pressed against his chest. “Please?”

“Okay, Orihime,” he said, rubbing her back. Finally, she was done crying and she turned and nestled so her back was against his chest. He put an arm over her waist and held her close. “Do you want that story now?”

“Could you tell me one your mom told you?” she asked. “Do you remember one well enough?”

“I remember one,” he said, resting his chin near her neck. “It’s kind of a fairy tale, and kind of not. It wasn’t until I talked to my dad after the fight with Aizen that I realized it, though.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Once, there was a young girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, named Masaki. She liked to sleep with her window open, because she liked the sounds of a city at night. But sometimes she would feel like things were lurking just outside her window. So one night she resolved to sit by her window and watch, to tell herself that these bad things weren’t really there.”

“But she saw them?”

He nodded just a little. “She saw huge white monsters gathered outside on the ground. Two of them. She lived in an apartment complex, three stories up, and they seemed to be waiting. Suddenly, she saw a butterfly, and then the first monster was gone, and then the other. She blinked, having thought she’d seen things, when suddenly there was a man in black on her window ledge.”

“He jumped up three stories?” Orihime said, in a voice tinged with awe.

“He did,” he replied. He told her that the monsters were gone, and he’d make sure they stayed away. She asked what his name was, and he looked back with a cocky grin on his face and said it was Isshin. Then he stepped out onto the air and was gone. After that, there were some nights she would sit by her window and just wait. She never saw the monsters again, but sometimes Isshin would be there, and they would talk.”

“About what?” Orihime asked, suppressing a yawn.

“All sorts of things. How her day went, where he was from. She was too old for bedtime stories, and the stories seemed too fantastic to be real, but she got the feeling he wasn’t lying. And then, after a few years, he stopped coming. She waited and waited by her window, but neither he nor the monsters came again. And so she grew up, and kept the secret of that man all to herself.”

“How sad,” she said quietly. “But he didn’t abandon her, right?”

“No, he didn’t. But he lost his powers, lost the ability to kill the monsters and jump up three stories to see her. After a while, she convinced herself that she’d made him up, and entered university. One night she went to a class, and there he was, sitting outside. She couldn’t believe her eyes! He looked exactly the same, except he was in jeans and a wacky shirt, and he was smoking a cigarette. She walked right up to him and asked if his name was Isshin.”

“What did he say?” she asked.

“He said it was, and then she asked if he was the man who would visit a young girl and talk to her about a place where the dead went to live. He dropped his cigarette in his lap and then jumped up, causing her to laugh so hard she doubled over. He looked at her closely, and asked if her name was Masaki, and then she said it was. And then he asked her out on one date, then another, and then they got married and lived happily ever after.”

“That’s the story of your parents, right?” she asked, her voice laced with sleep.

“It is,” he said. “I just didn’t know it growing up, because she named the girl Tatsuki and the man Jushiro.” He laughed softly, and felt her shiver a little, and he tightened his hold. “When I first met Tatsuki was when she told me the story. Dad suggested she name the guy Jushiro, after Ukitake. I always thought Mom wanted me to end up with her, but she probably picked it because it made it a little more familiar.”

“Your parents must have really loved each other,” she replied.

“They did. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I love you as much as my father loved my mother, as much as he still loves her today,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

“I love you too, Ichigo,” she said, putting her arms over his and grasping one of his hands with hers. “I have for a long time.”

“I know. I was just too stupid to notice.” He lifted his head up and kissed the back of her head. “So no matter what, you remember that, and you know I’ll always be there for you, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He held her and drifted off to sleep soon after she did, knowing that things were going to be different from here on out.


End file.
